The Hunter's Blade: Aftermath
by chunho01
Summary: Orcs are rampaging in the North when Drizzt leaves Mithral Hall alone. Aboard a ship to the North, is the drow, Jarlaxle. Meanwhile, somewhere in Faerun, an army more devastating than the orcs of Obould, is slowly rising...Chapter 3 done!
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer**: All recognizable characters and places belong to R. A. Salvatore and Wizard of The Coast, except for the plot and all original characters, which belong to me._

_Prologue: Path of the dark elf_

Drizzt Do'Urden is waken up by the sounds of the early birds. No, in fact, Drizzt has been almost awake throughout the whole night.

A lot has happened since he slew Obould Many-Arrows, who was blessed by no other than the orc god, Gruumsh himself. Yes, for that, Drizzt was content for helping his friends at Mithral Hall. Even at this very moment, his friends may already be awake and have found him missing. His lavender eyes hint at a feeling of longing and when he almost turns back towards the direction of Mithral Hall, he quickly dismisses the thought though. "This had to be done..." And the dawn hunter turns his head away...

* * *

The sounds of the footsteps echo through the empty hallway as Regis walks ever so fast towards the chamber where Bruenor Battlehammer resides. As he nears the dwarf's room, Regis hear nothing and almost decides to come back later when Bruenor's awake. No, this matter must brought to Bruenor, as the ruler of Mithral Hall and as one of his closest friends... Indeed, this cannot be delayed. The red-bearded dwarven king leaps up as Regis barges in. 

"Oh...what in the..." Bruenor starts.

Regis interrupts just when Bruenor is starting to complain about the sudden interruption, especially one so early.

"Drizzt is missing!"

Startled, the dwarven king is almost fully awake, but disappoints Regis when he slumps back. "Oh, he must be out hunting, now if ye' can excuse ye'self..." Afraid that he might lose Bruenor's attention, Regis quickly adds, "But he packed most of his belongings! And without telling us?"

Bruenor grumbles but does not reply. For a moment, Regis thinks that he's asleep, but suddenly he leaps from his bed, now fully awake.

"Rumblebelly, ye' better have a good reason to this, I'm telling ye." Bruenor exclaims irritably, but the look of concern is clearly displayed on his face.

While Bruenor's dressing, Regis storms out of the room. He still has to inform another two companions.

* * *

Bruenor grumbles again, while Wulfgar paces the room. The barbarian human is feeling angry, but is also concerned about Drizzt's sudden departure. Although the wicked orc king Obould is slain there are still quite a number of orcs out there for reasons unknown to any of his companion. There's a great chance Drizzt is going out to investigate the matters. 

Standing near the pacing Wulfgar, Cattie-brie is feeling the same, although she's not stomping around. In fact, the beautiful auburn-haired woman might be the one who feares most. Although she is well aware about the consequences of loving Drizzt, she cannot ignore the feelings she has towards the drow.

"Now what is he thinking!" Wulfgar exclaims for the fourth time.

"He's not hunting with all his belongings with him," Cattie whispers, so soft that Wulfgar almost misses it, but Regis seem to have heard what she said although he's standing far away.

"That means he's leaving for a longer period, which also means he's either decided to live outside or return to Menzoberranzan, the Underdark." Regis deduces.

The two humans in the room shudder at the thought of Drizzt returning to Menzoberranzan, and living in the city of drow again.

"No, he doesn't have a good reason to do that...not yet." Bruenor's loud voice suddenly chimes in. "Regis, remember what we talked about how the orcs are not retreating despise Obould's death? I think he might be out there handling this matter...or, at the very worst, finding out whether Obould still lives."

Sighing heavily, Wulfgar continues pacing. No one speaks for a while, then the dwarven king slumps into one of the chairs saying, "If what we deducted is true, then he won't be back in a long while...and we're not getting any part in his plan."

"It's all up to him. We can only wait..." Cattie-brie whispers ever so softly.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and places belong to R. A. Salvatore and Wizard of The Coast, except for the plot and all original characters, which belong to me.  
_

_**Spoilers:** Some spoilers from Servant of the Shard and Road of the Patriarch.  
_

_Chapter 1: The Two Drows_

Barog, the orc commander, is relaying orders to his minions. King Obould will not be pleased when he finds that Barog's little group has not reached the desired destination.

King Obould desires to secure the land he claimed and to leave Mithral Hall alone for now, yet Barog still wishes to stay and hoping that he may find some lone dwarve still outside. Now, Barog has realized his own stubbornness and has quickly ordered his gang to leave as fast as possible.

Over the past few days, they have progressed swiftly and smoothly, but this morning, one of his minions found traces of boots, too small to be an orc's. They have decided to camp in this grassy opening, and hunt down the footprints owner.

"What a pleasant thing that one still wanders around. I'm getting boring throughout the journey." Barog says with a sneer on his face.

The orc commander continues moving around, barking orders and insults at his minions. Most of the orcs who receive the insults continue their work quickly without bothering to throw an insult back at their commander. Years of working with the commander has made it ice clear that Barog isn't the person you can disobey and still get away in one piece.

Noting the fear shown clearly on the orcs faces, Barog walks away satisfied. Obviously, the orc commander is pleased by the attitude of his fellow orcs. Barog begins to laugh madly when suddenly all he can see is impenetrable darkness..

* * *

Orcs are everywhere, and the Hunter move his way swiftly towards the commander, eluding the hack and slash coming from the surrounding orcs. 

Drizzt has observed this group for a few days hoping to collect some information, and he didn't regret what he had been doing for the past few days.

From what he has gathered, Obould Many-Arrows is still alive. He did not believe the news in the beginning, but the conversation among the orcs is all he needs to be entirely sure that somehow, Obould still lives! For that, he cannot do anything for now. Now he intends only to drive as many orcs back into their tunnels as he can, he has decided to kill the higher ranks only, leaving the minions to spread the news, and hopefully, they will lose to their fear.

A heavy axe is coming down towards the dark elf, and sounds of metal clashing cuts through the roars of the orcs when Drizzt instinctively parries it. The drow makes a final leap towards the orc commander only to find himself blocked by a huge orc. The orc swings his heavy two-handed sword down. Knowing that his strength is not enough to parry the blow, the Hunter side steps and veers around to the back of the orc in a blur movement, Icingdeath and Twinkle slashing swiftly. The orc roars, and turn around, swinging his sword wildly, abandoning all his defenses. Drizzt takes this as an opportunity to drive both blades deep into the orc's ribcage.

Wasting no time, Drizzt turns away from the orc, and move towards the orc commander, or Barog, the name he heard from the minions. In split seconds, the Hunter's blades are upon Barog. Seemingly impossibly, Barog has somehow managed to block the blades with his left hand, but it results in dispatching it. It amazes Drizzt that the orc does not scream, and instead instinctively wields his axe using his right hand.

"Damn you!" With a roar, he swings his axe blindly in the darkness. The orc made too much noise, pointing out his position in this darkness. The Hunter faces no difficulty in successfully slashing the orc's side.

Knowing his defeat, Barog roares, and turns away from the unseen opponent, ready to run. In a swift movement, the Hunter brings Twinkle in for the kill. The orc slumps down to the ground just as the globe of darkness disappears. The other orcs freeze. Satisfied by the look of horror on the orcs' faces, the drow runs towards the other direction, leaving the dozens of orcs dumbfounded.

* * *

After parting ways with Artemis Entreri, Jarlaxle travels alone to The North. He has lived most his life in leading Bregan D'aerthe, and later, accompanying Artemis. Although a long time ago, he had been a friend of Zaknafein Do'Urden, but he regrets that he betrayed his only close friend, except Artemis. Wishing to experience the same joys as Drizzt, a drow he met during his past adventures, now he is aboard a ship sailing towards the port city of Waterdeep. 

Standing near the side of the ship, Jarlaxle is deep into thought. A few years ago, he still kept in regular contact with Bregan D'aerthe's new ruler, Kimmuriel Oblodra, but he has decided not to bother with the band's activities anymore. He has something else in his mind. A grin appears on the drow's face as he thinks of the insane idea...A few days after he parted ways with Artemis, ending his adventures with the man, he had tried to think of something to do, and this seemingly impossible idea came across him. Hence, now he's journeying towards his destination, his new home...

"So dark elf, what do you seek in Waterdeep?"

Jarlaxle turns his head around to greet the ship's captain. He might not have been able to sail to the land of The North if he did not met Captain Baract. He had made nine unsuccessful attempt to find a ship willing to let a drow aboard.

"Actually, I do not intend to find anything at Waterdeep." Jarlaxle replies.

Captain Baract frowns, "Then where do you intend to go?"

Jarlaxle again smiles at his plan. "Mithral Hall."

Obviously shocked by the answer, Baract replies, "Wha...Mithral what!?"

"Surely the companions of the halls won't welcome me warmly..." And he turns away, and makes his way back towards his cabin leaving the captain alone. He thinks he hears the captain say something about orcs, but he cares less about that now. Jarlaxle Baenre the dark elf is planning to pay Mithral Hall a visit...


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2: Rise of the demonic son**

I failed my father...No! He doesn't deserve to be my father! I saw it clearly that my father was shouting here and there, all the while kicking the corpse. He doesn't even feel regret for losing his only son...

Where am I? Why there's nothing but shining little specks...It's like I'm floating in the space...Is this the feeling of the dead? There's no such thing as hell and heaven, gods and devils?

I failed myself...That elf and the damned drow! She tricked me! It wasn't a fair fight! How could she hide a small sword in her palm...No...I'll be careful next time...If there's such a thing as fighting in this emptiness...

* * *

He breathed in heavily.

In the vast hall with walls so ancient that no one could have guessed who had built it, lay the orc, the demiorc. Unlike a normal orc, his body was gracefully thin and he had two dragon-like horns protruding from his skull. Partially hidden by the ragged cloak covering him, was a long dark coloured tail. The colour of his skin was darker than the typical green colour of his original kin. He had been in a state of coma until an hour ago. Surrounding him were ten hooded figures, all wearing the same ragged crimson cloak.

_Who am I?_

The hooded figures were chanting some sort of spell in a strange language. Although he didn't understand the words muttered by them, he felt a powerful presence nearing them. The demiorc slowly opened his eyelids.

_Why am I here?_

Slowly, the demiorc stood up, grimacing all the while. He flexed his numb limbs and wondered when the last time was he used them. The hooded figures pay less attention to him. Some merely glance in his direction before continue their chant.

_What am I?_

A lot of questions were inside his head. Yet he could not answer even one. Most importantly, since when did he own a tail, he thought while swinging his tail slowly.

Suddenly, the hooded figures stopped. Silence filled the vast hall, and the powerful presence was very near to them now, and the demiorc could swear that it was right beside him.

"What..." the demiorc begins but his voice trailed off when a brilliant light filled the hall.

As sudden as the light began it stops, and everything is back to normal, excpet that the powerful presence is with them now. The demiorc stumbled backward as the powerful presence materialised before him. The hooded figures all drop down, and start praying in a weird way. They mumbled words so ancient yet felt extremely powerful and overwhelming that it made the demiorc feel uneasy.

The new figure sneered, and walked gracefully towards the demiorc. The wicked smile on his face vanished when he mouthed something. He stopped directly in front of the demiorc.

"Welcome to my temple," he exclaimed as if the demiorc is his long lost friend.

Somehow, the powerful presence around him faded a little. The demiorc also noticed then that he is quite short for a human, and an eerie shadow-like aura is surrounding him. His features also seem to be changing from time to time. _Is this a human?_

"Correct! In fact, I'm not even close to a human. The reason I took this form is to be able to talk to you in a more intimate way," the human replied.

_He just read my mind!_ The demiorc retreated a few steps away but was stopped by the hooded figure kneeling behind him. He almost stumbles over.

"Alright, I know you have plenty of questions, but," the human's eyes meet the demiorc's "I wish to tell you your true identity first," the aura covered human sneers again, and the demiorc stiffened.

"Welcome back to the mortal world, Urlgen Threefist."


End file.
